


Night Out

by mrfreddyjones



Series: Imagines [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (referenced) Fight Club, (referenced) The Rocky Horror Show, (referenced) The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, (referenced) The Tell-Tale Heart, (referenced) Veronica Mars, (referenced) Xena: The Warrior Princess, M/M, cw: blood, cw: character death, cw: explicit character death, cw: violence, imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 15:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5831179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrfreddyjones/pseuds/mrfreddyjones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your date with the enemy is rudely interrupted by a couple of creeps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Out

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for violence, harassment, blood, character death. This is the first in a series of Imagines, because I didn’t find many m/m imagines out there (then again, I’m not known for looking too hard for things).

Scott was going to kill you. Well, not literally, that was kind of a big thing with him, the _no killing_ policy. You didn’t always agree with it – there was no point in keeping Gerard alive, a lot of trouble could’ve been avoided if Kate had just stayed dead, and you still weren’t 100% sure that Deucalion wouldn’t come back for the Pack’s asses in the near future. “ _Call me old-fashioned_ ,” you’d told him, “ _but I just don’t believe being un-blinded will make a leopard change his spots. Once a psycho, always a psycho._ ” He said something about second chances and believing the best in people, and you sort of rolled his eyes and exchanged a glance with Stiles. Stiles, who'd been behaving… strangely lately.

You knew he’d killed Donovan. For someone who spent so much time talking about killing the villains, Stiles sure did react badly to actually doing it. Not that you blamed him, in all honesty, you probably would react just as badly – there is a world of difference between wanting someone dead and actually killing them. Malia knew, too. She’d smelled it or something – and you’d simply arrived at the conclusion by being the one person in the entire pack who didn’t seem to be going through a nervous breakdown. It’s astonishing how observant one can get when everyone around them starts losing their minds.

And here you were, on a Friday night, with the one responsible for it all. “You’re nervous,” Theo says, frowning just slightly. “Anxious.”

He can smell you. Of course he can, he’s a werewolf – or something like that. You probably smell like Stiles did when this whole supernatural thing started, back before the Darach and the Nogitsune and the Dread Doctors. Not that you know what he smelled like – as far as your human nostrils can tell, Stiles smells only of too much Axe body spray and second-hand embarrassment – but you remember how things were in the beginning, you remember how they were when you first joined the Pack, back when Jackson was a giant gecko and Gerard was relevant. “You’re not,” you said, instead, offering a weak smile. You didn’t need supernatural abilities to tell: Theo’s smooth voice and easy demeanor, and how easily he moves through the motions, were a big enough clue. Not just now, but the entire time. Stiles might be the Sheriff’s kid, but you’re the Veronica Mars of the Pack. “Never.” He smiles at you, shrugs, both hands shoved deep in his pockets. “The entire Pack is. Everyone’s freaking out. Stiles seems to be starring in his own rendition of _The Tell-Tale Heart_ , Kira’s going full-on Jekyll/Hyde, and Scott…” you sigh. “Scott can’t even breathe on his own. And in the middle of all that chaos…” your tongue slips out of your mouth, wetting your lips. “Is only you, unaffected.”

“That’s not true,” Theo grins, pulling his hand out of his pocket and gently wrapping an arm around your shoulder. The two of you are walking down the sidewalk – it’s a full moon, the cold breeze crashes against your skin. “You don’t seem to be affected by whatever’s going on, either”

That was the point. That was why you agreed to come to this date – to figure out why. “That’s true,” you nod, slowly. “Why’s that?”

Theo is about to reply to you. He’s about to tell you something, maybe everything, after a night of drinking sodas and watching _Rocky Horror_ and not talking about anything related to the dread doctors or the chimeras. After a whole evening of not talking about what little you did know – Theo was unaffected by whatever was bringing the Pack down, as was you. He might even _be_ what’s breaking the Pack apart, since the problems only started once he joined. For some reason, it, or he, was sparing you. Stiles didn’t think Theo was Theo, which might be nothing, but considering he brought it up _before_ the whole Donovan thing, it might be _something_ – and then you are rudely interrupted, by some guy.

It starts with a whistle, a wolf whistle, ironically enough. “Damn, boy,” some creep shouts, then, undoubtedly the same one who’s just whistled. “Where’re you going this late?”

“That your boyfriend?” Another one asks, eyeing Theo. “Aren’t the two of you the prettiest young things?” These kinds of creeps aren’t the reason why you always carry weapons, your home being _Beacon Hills_ and the biggest threat being _supernatural creatures_ , but they do come in handy at times like that. Since you got Argent to train you, you’d been feeling safer in the streets. It was the stealthiest of moves, the way your hand just slipped into your pocket, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Theo.

“Look, fellas, we don’t want any trouble” Theo raised his hands, keeping his voice even, his movements easy and relaxed even now. “Why don’t we just give you our wallets and we all go our separate ways?”

“We don’t want your wallets,” the first asshole says, a filthy grin spreading on his lips. “We want a piece of that ass”

They’re both looking at you now, and your hand tightens around the switchblade you carry everywhere but never had to use, muscles tensed. You’re ready to fight. “Not gonna happen,” Theo says, and for the first time since you’ve met him, he seems genuinely affected – there is a level of emotion on his voice you hadn’t heard before, and if only for a second, there is something in his eyes, something like possessiveness.

The men laugh. _“Haven’t you learned to share?”_ they say, together, and one of them reaches for you. Your heart is racing, and you wonder if you’ll react the same way as Stiles did – if you’re the one to come out of this one alive, that is. Perhaps you’ll take it worse, you think, because both of your assailants are human. Before you can finish that line of thought, however, there is a roar, and the hand that was reaching for you is intercepted by a clawed hand. You don’t have to turn to see the yellow glow of Theo’s eyes, already wolfed out. The other guy goes at him, and you take this opportunity to retrieve your blade, Argent’s training evading you entirely, and instead you decide to emulate what you’ve seen on the movies – years of watching them must count for something, right? – and you only manages a few, superficial cuts, before your blade is knocked down. Theo is busy with the other guy, clawing at his chest, and the first one is coming at you again. You need to think, to find a way to defend yourself. The man raises his arm, but before he can bring his fist down, your hand moves swiftly, hitting him in the throat, in a move you copied from Xena. You throw a few punches, straight out of Fight Club, and you’re about to knock him off when Theo roars again. This time, it sounds more feral, more primal, and you turn to see his face inches away from the one of the other assailant, who seems to be on the brink of death. “He’s _mine_ ” he shouts, ripping the man to shreds. “ ** _Mine_** ,” he repeats, and you can’t help the smile that crosses your lips. It’s bizarre, and creepy, and terrifying – Theo is covered in blood, wolfed-out, literally digging his way into some stranger’s chest, growling about how you belong to him – but it’s also somewhat sweet. Disturbingly so, but in a place like Beacon Hills, everything is. When he’s done with that one, he turns to find you still holding the first guy. You two exchange a glance, Theo’s tongue coming out to clear the blood from his lips. His fangs are gone and his eyes are back to their natural color, but for the split second it took for him to shift back, you were able to catch a glimpse of his still-golden eyes. So Theo wasn’t a werewolf, then. “Scott would want us to let him go,” Theo says, his voice smooth, the words rolling out of his mouth so easily.

“He wouldn’t want us to kill him,” you agree, still holding on to the man by the collar of his shirt. “He doesn’t believe in killing”

“And what do you believe in?” Theo asks, taking a step forward. His eyes are trained on you, and there is something on them, a darkness, a desire. He wants you.

“I believe that if we let this scumbag go, he’ll just come back for us at a later time. Maybe with guns.” You say, nodding his head to the man you’re still holding, the man who is desperately shaking his head, trying to deny it.

“Probably not,” Theo shrugs. “Not this one, at least. He’d probably be too scared. Wouldn’t want to end like his business partner”

The man groans, unable to speak through his probably broken jaw, nodding slightly in agreement. “Then he’d just go and attack someone else,” you point out. “Maybe next time he’ll go for someone who can’t defend themselves like we can.”

Theo is grinning. “You think we should kill him,” he says.

“I think someone will die no matter what we do,” you offer, “but if we let him get away, it might be someone innocent”

A heavy silence hangs above you for a moment.

“You think Scott would understand?” Theo asks, standing impossibly close in front of you now.

“You haven’t told me,” you say, instead, staring at Theo’s lips. “Why I’m still standing”

“Maybe whoever’s destroying the pack likes you,” he says, reaching for the man’s throat, wrapping his hand over yours. His other hand reaches for the back of your neck, his eyes glowing golden again, claws stretching over your fingers, scratching against your attacker’s skin, as well as your own. “Maybe,” you can feel his breath in your skin. “Whoever’s doing this wants a pack of his own. And maybe,” you feel Theo’s hand tighten over yours, the warmth of the creep’s blood. “He wants you on his pack”

You make the next move. You lean forward and press your lips to Theo’s, your tongue is the one slipping through his parted lips.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out very differently from what I originally expected, and a lot darker too. It kind of got away from me.


End file.
